7th May 2019
Arriving at the Northern Stage was a shock: the place was heaving with teenagers. I have never seen so many young people at a theatre production. Aha! of course, Malorie Blackman!
Noughts and Crosses is set in a world divided between the privileged (black) Crosses and the exploited (white) Noughts, who are derogatorily referred to a ‘Blankers’, a term which has the same hateful power as the N-word in our world. It features two young people, Sephy and Callum, who fall in love across this divide. So, as my friend put it, just Romeo and Juliet then? In a sense, yes. But its dilemmas seem very modern, with echoes not just of Apartheid South Africa and the US Civil rights Movement, but also of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, whose spectre has been re-raised by the murder of Lyra McKee by the New IRA.
The young lovers are: Sephy (Persephone), daughter of the Cross Home Secretary, Kamal and alcoholic mother, Jasmine; and Callum McGregor, the Nought son of their sacked servant, Maggie. Sephy and Callum are childhood friends who, as they grow, are forced to keep their friendship secret. Under external political pressure, Kamal is forced to begin desegregation, allowing the first Nought pupils into previously exclusively Cross schools. Callum is one of the first of this experimental intake.
The violent reaction of the Crosses to this is reminiscent of the racist violence against the US Civil Rights Movement. Sephy is ostracised and later assaulted by her Cross friends, for attempting to bridge this violent divide. Callum is forced to publicly deny his friendship with Sephy, a betrayal he attempts to justify by saying it was for her own protection.
As the political tension increases, Callum’s brother Jude and his father Ryan are drawn to the Resistance Militia. Callum and his mother Meggie maintain that resistance must be non-violent. The divide is not just between communities but is causing a rift within families. We learn that Callum’s sister has been the victim of violence from within their Nought community for having a Cross boyfriend, and the internal conflict has driven her mad. She refuses to leave her room and labours under the delusion that she is not a Nought but a Cross.
When the Resistance Militia set a bomb in a crowded shopping centre, Jude and Ryan are forced to flee in the ensuing anti-terrorist crackdown. Ryan is caught but, refuses to betray his son’s whereabouts. He is prepared to die for the cause. He is tried and sentenced.
Sephy finds the whole situation unbearable and resolves to escape: either to boarding school or to run away with Callum, who she asks, in a smuggled letter, to meet her.
Thus ends Act One.
Act Two opens, three years later.
Sephy is back from boarding school; Callum is on a brief visit home from the Militia which he has joined following his father’s death. It is only now that he receives Sephy’s letter. They meet, but in a shocking twist Sephy is taken hostage.
Callum is left alone to guard Sephy, while the others go to pick up the ransom. She angrily confronts him and they are reconciled.
The kidnappers are betrayed and the plot darkens further; options are offered and choices made leading to a horrifying finale. However thehearbreaking final scene offers a slither of hope for the future, in an echo of the opening scene.
The play packs a huge amount of action into its two hours. It felt Shakespearean in its weight and complexity, but also startlingly modern. The staging, set design, video, sound and lighting design, all added heft and drama to the powerfully adapted script by Sabrina Mahfouz. Stark black and rusty red walls, minimalist set, banks of tv screens, the discordant soundscape created a pressing sense of drama. The surreal slo-mo physicality of the fight and bombing scenes used the minimal props to extreme effect. The massive steps up to the gallows and the eerily lit noose, dwarfing the onlookers, added dramatic tension and shocking power to the climax of each act.
I was weeping at the final scene and praying for a reprieve. But this is a modern Romeo and Juliet.
My only quibble: in compressing such a vast story, summarising the 3-year gap when Sephy is at boarding school and Callum in the Militia, felt a bit feeble, and the device of the undelivered letter strained credulity – but I’m not sure how you would do it otherwise.
Malorie Blackman is quoted as saying that she is sorry that the themes are still as relevant as when she wrote the book 20 years ago. Which is sadly true on a societal level, but as drama it gives added grip. And that teens could still be talking animatedly and identifying so intensely with a book written before they were born, is a tribute to both Malorie Blackman and the production team, from the writer, director, designers and cast, who played their roles flawlessly.
It sent me back wanting to read the whole series from the start to the latest book, Crossfire, due out this summer.
Gerry Byrne
